


Oceans of Time

by Andrew001



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dark Jon Snow, Dracula Influence/References, F/M, Modern Era, Night's King - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andrew001/pseuds/Andrew001
Summary: This is inspired by Bram Stoker's Dracula, both movie and book. The summary would give too much away so just read if you feel like it.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 42
Kudos: 92





	Oceans of Time

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a thing I had in my head for a while now. I wanted to create a Jonerys story in the universe of Dracula (being from the land of Dracula and vampires myself I couldn't resist). This will serve as a prologue/one-shot chapter but as I get more time I will develop and bring it to an end, that I promise.  
> More rant and things at the end, try to enjoy the story if you wish. I went for a horror like approach which I hope I conveyed in an appropriate way. 
> 
> P.S. Sort of a warning as you go ahead: I'm not a Daario fan at all!

The sombre night sky was filled with clouds which painted themselves over the full moon. The wind rustled through the thick branches of the trees which showered the ground with their gathered snow. Howls in the distance sang together with the wind, as Daario Naharis stood at the edge of the crossroad, tapping his foot.

He reached inside of his coat’s pocket and took out his watch. He pulled his coat tighter around him and wrapped his scarf around his neck tighter. He tried burying his chin inside the scarf. The sharp cold brought by the wind was biting at his face. The North is so fucking cold, he thought bitterly as every muscle in his body tensed.

The past few days have been peculiar, to say the least. The journey to the North, the conversations he had with the people and all the warnings he got. “Stay away, stay away from the Nightfort! The dead roam there!” all of them said the exact same thing making him angry. How stupid could people be? The dead don’t roam, they stay in the ground!

He noticed a lot of strange customs that people followed in this part of the country. He was waiting at a crossing to be picked up by his host’s driver. He remembered that in the villages he passed through on the way, each house had a number of things in common. They each had some sort of cheval de frise, large barriers that seemed to have spikes made out of black glass. Behind those barriers, from the diligence, Daario could see the ground around the houses was covered in tar, ready to be lit. The houses looked as if they were ready to defend against an attack.

He cursed internally at the North. As he was grinding his teeth, his mind took him back to last week when it all began. Daario stood inside a large office, dragon's decorating the walls. A fire was roaring inside the heart above which a giant sword rested. “Fire and Blood”, read the words inscribed on the wooden piece that held it. The sword, believed to be thousands of years old, shone brightly, its steel immaculate. The way the light from the flames hit the sharp edge, made Daario think it was thirsting for blood.

While he stared at the sword, Lord Aerys Targaryen entered the room. The man was lean, with long and silver, grey hair sprawled across his shoulders. His indigo eyes were darkened by lines under them and his forehead was wrinkled by old age. He carried himself with grace; grace bestowed to him by the title he held.

“Ah, Daario! Thank you for joining me on such short notice,” the old dragon said and pointed to a chair.

Daario took a seat and immediately said: “I came as soon as I could, my Lord. How can I be of service?”

“Straight to business I see. Very well, I’ve always like your practicality,” he gave a small, wicked smile.

“A couple of months ago, an emissary from the North approached me in order to discuss business on behalf of his liege Lord, a Count Knightings. Having never heard of him before I made some inquiries and found out that he is veritable Northern Count and is very rich. You are aware that I’ve been trying to sell Summerhall for some time now?

“Yes, of course,” Daario said without hesitating. “I’ve always advised that the asking price is too high. Has your Lordship managed to convince this Count Knightings to buy it at asking price?”

Aerys’ wicked smile grew; “I didn't even have time to tell him my price. His servant told me he is willing to pay an even higher price if I agree to it immediately.”

Daario’s eyes grew in awe. He stammered before asking:

“Why would he pay so much for a thousand-year-old castle that is in ruins? Do you think he is hiding or playing at something?” Daario inquired.

“I suspected as much, but I agreed immediately. He agreed to buy it at double the asking price,” he said, his fingers tapping on the desk. “Rest assured, I asked Tywin’s man, Clegane to travel North and see that the deal is made accordingly,” Aerys said as he stood up to look out the window.

“The problem is, Clegane has not sent any word since he left over a month ago. I wrote to the Count asking if he received Clegane but he claims that he never arrived at his castle.”

“Clegane is a mountain of a man, no harm could have come to him. And he is loyal to Tywin and Tywin is your man. He wouldn’t have dared to double-cross neither of you.”

“Exactly my thoughts, Daario my boy. That’s why I called you here. You are my top man, the best. I should have sent you in the first place but you were busy in Meeren.”

“You want me to travel North and deal with him?” Daario said caught off guard.

Aerys turned to Daario, “Yes. You will travel North, deal with this and once you return, I shall grant you what you’ve always desired. My daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Daario shot upwards from his chair immediately, not believing what he’d just heard.

“Do you mean it, my Lord? Will, you finally agree to me marrying Daenerys?” he asked, flabbergasted by what he heard.

“Yes. You come from a good family and you were brought up under my wing. You’ve always solved any issue that I had. If you manage to see this deal to the end, I will let Daenerys marry you. Yes, there’s no better man suited for her than you.”

“I will not let you down, my Lord,” he bowed his head, hearth racing, still not believing his luck.

Aerys grabbed him and straightened him, his hands lingering on his shoulders. He looked deep into his eyes.

“I know you won’t,” he said. There is a strange madness in his eyes, but I don’t care. He’ll give me Daenerys if I do this for him, Daario thought.

“Now, best get ready for your journey. You’ll leave on the midnight train, I want to have this solved as soon as possible. Daenerys is in the library if you wish to speak to her before you depart. Once you have returned and the deal is sealed, I’ll announce your engagement. Not a word to anyone, not even her before then, understood?” he said sternly.

“Yes, my Lord,” he bowed again and exited Aerys’ office and made his way towards the library. The Targaryen Manor was an immense estate, located in the middle of Dragonstone Island, just a few miles from the capital.

Daario arrive in front of two large doors that lead into the library. He arranged his vest and the collar of his shirt before knocking.

“Enter,” he heard a sweet voice calling from inside.

He opened the doors and stepping in the library where he saw her. A red, long dress hugged her small petite figure. A small, three-headed dragon pin was pinned on the left side of her chest. Her beautiful silver hair was brighter than her father’s and her eyes were a wild purple that mesmerized anyone who looked into them. Daario saw her giving him a small smile.

“Daario, what a surprise. Is there something I can help you with,” she said in a quiet tone. He chuckled at her shyness. She always acted like this around him, he thought.

“Lady Daenerys, I came to bask in your beauty before I depart to solve some pressing matters for your Lord father.”

“Oh, I see,” she said plainly turning back to the book she was reading.

He frowned at her actions, I’ll have to teach her how to pay more attention to me. Once she is mine she won’t have to shy away from me.

Daario approached her and took the book from her hands. She raised her head and he felt that her gaze burning into him. He always admired her when she let feistiness show, he loved trying to conquer her. 

“What are you doing?”

“You won’t be able to resist me any longer, Daenerys. I know you want me, the fire is there in your eyes.”

“What are you talking about, Daario?” she asked drily.

“You’ll understand once I come back, Daenerys. You’ll understand how much I love and want you,” he took her hand and which she retrieved immediately.

He looked at her and said with a smirk on his face.

“Don’t be like that, Dany. I’ve laid my heart at your feet and all you do is kick it?”

“Don’t call me that!” she hissed. “I never asked for you to do it. I respect you Daario, but I’m not yours and never will be.”

Something triggered inside him at her refusal, a subtle rage he needed to let out. He grabbed her wrist, and pulled her hand towards him, trying to kiss her. She let out a cry as she struggled in his arms. Before he could go any further something pulled him away and threw him a few steps back.

“What is the meaning of this!! Explain yourself, Naharis!!” Daenerys’ brother, Rhaegar, bellowed at him. Daario straightened his vest and ran his hand through his hair.

“Rhaegar, how good to see you.” The man in front of Daario was tall, slim but well build with silver hair caught in a ponytail that hung over his back. His eyes were indigo like the ones of his father.

“What the hell were you doing to my sister?” he asked and Daario could sense the rage in his voice.

“Nothing. Just wanted to give her a goodbye kiss. She will be my bride once I return,” he said without thinking. He didn’t want to let it slip out, but the look on their faces made it worth it.

“What!?” Daenerys and Rhaegar said in unison.

“I’m going North to finish some business on behalf of your father. When I return, he will announce our engagement,” he turned back to exit the room.

“I won’t! No, Rhaegar please, don’t let father do this!” he heard Daenerys break down. Without turning he said to both of them “You’ll learn to love me, Daenerys. You don’t have a choice. I always get what I want. Give my regards to Viserys.” He left and all he could hear were Daenerys’s sobs but he did not care; Mine, mine, mine was all that he thought.

As he basked in his thoughts he heard the trotting of horses and wheels squealing and rolling in the distance. The muffled silence, suddenly being filled brought him back to the present day. He looked ahead, trying to notice something in the darkness of the night. In the distance, from within the forest, a small shape grew larger and larger.

Soon, a massive carriage stopped in front of him. It was all made of black wood and Daario could see that it was rotten in places. The old object was being pulled by six black horses. Daario noticed that their eyes were an unusual shape of icy blue. Uneasiness filled him as realization made its way into his mind; even though the temperature was freezing outside, the breath of the horses was not visible in front of their large noses.

What made Daario skin crawl was the driver who was staring at him. He was all dressed in black, collar pulled up covering the side of his face. On his head, he wore a black deerstalker. His face was not visible and only a pair of eyes, the same colour as the horses could be seen. Daario struggled to find his voice before finally addressing the driver:

“E-Excuse me, sir!? Are you here to take me to Count Knightings’ castle?”

The driver made no sound whatsoever. He extended his hand, which was covered by a black glove. He grabbed Daario’s shoulder and pulled him towards the entrance of the carriage.

Daario winced at the strength of the driver. A sickness overtook him the moment the driver touched his shoulder and Daario felt the urge to vomit. What in the Seven Hells... he thought once he was in the carriage, trying to contain a sudden urge to vomit. He could feel the cold sweat on his brow. 

The driver slammed the door of the carriage and immediately snapped his whip, the horses pulling the carriage forward. He pushed his head out of the door’s window to speak with the driver

“What the bloody hell is happening? I demand that you tell me where are you taking me!”

The driver did not answer. He looked as if he were in a trance. He manoeuvred the reins as if they were part of him. The horses were galloping and the old carriage trembled from every joint as it was speeding along the bumpy road.

The carriage raced through the thick forest which although being pitch dark, was illuminated by the moon. The bark of the trees turned silver under the ethereal rays that descended upon them. He took in his surrounding but everywhere he looked, he saw trees that looked down on them as they made their way through the forest.

As he looked again towards at the driver, he found him furiously pulling at the reins, speaking to the horses in an unknown language. From what he could make between the rumbling of the wheel, the whistling of the wind and the howl of the wolves the man’s voice was deep. It sounded ancient.

His mouth went dry at what he saw next. Wolves ran together alongside the carriage. Big black beasts with blood-red eyes were furiously barring their teeth at him. They snarled and growled and Daario’s blood turned cold in his veins. He suddenly felt the carriage slow down until it stopped.

He pulled his head back into the carriage, closing his eyes. He started praying to some unknown God. For a brief moment which felt like an eternity, only the wolves and the wind sang in the night. The carriage jerked slightly as it seemed that the driver climbed down from his seat. He heard the snow crunch outside the carriage door.

Suddenly, a demonic-like voice roared violently as it thundered and cursed. Daario couldn’t understand what it was saying. Next, he heard the wolves give a submissive whines as they slowly faded away. He did not dare to look outside but the carriage started moving again. There was no more howling, only the sound of the ground being trampled by the wheels of the carriage.

He breathed heavily as he tried to calm himself down, fighting the strong urge to open the door and flee. He tried remembering why he came to this godforsaken place and what awaited him once he returned. The cold crept into the carriage and Daario felt exhaustion taking over him, but he did not want to fall asleep. After what felt like hours, he gave in, eyes slowly closing.

No sooner had he fully closed his eyes, a loud thud made them shot open. Groggy, he saw that the carriage door had been open. He stepped outside and noticed that his luggage was on the ground. Scanning his surroundings, he realized that he had arrived in front of a large castle, which stood atop of a cliff. It was surrounded by hallow valleys with only a bridge connecting it to what looked like the road the carriage came from.

The driver said nothing and nudged the horses, taking the carriage through a gate, disappearing behind the castle. The desire to get sheltered overtook Daario and he picked up his bags. He made his way to what he believed to be the front entrance. As he looked at the doors he realized the fact that they lacked handles.

He examined the doors closely and noticed that the one on the left held the engraving of a large wolf. The wolf had its mouth opened, its teeth resembling daggers. The face of the wolf was contorted in such a way that the first emotion Daario associated it with was hatred.

This doesn’t look like any wolf I have ever seen. The engraving looked old but the details on it were mesmerizing. When he looked at the other door, the engraving on it surprised him even more.

On the right door, a majestic dragon held its head high and looked directly towards the wolf, month agape, baring its teeth as well. This engraving was not as affected by the passage of time as the wolf one.

Daario reached his hand to touch the dragon engraving, but the doors suddenly opened before he could put his fingers on it. His chance vanished. Startled he pulled his hand back faster than he wanted to.

The sound of the opening doors pierced through the eerie silence. He looked ahead and saw the entrance hall was barely illuminated. This was not the welcome he had hoped for, as he clenched the handles of his suitcases harder.

Daario took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. A singular feeling crept inside his mind and heart. A feeling that he had, somehow, entered in a different world. The castle held an outlandish smell, a smell of decaying moss. Small torches lit the dark walls of the castle. His breath was visible as a chill ran through his spine, the layers of clothing he had donned on himself not helping.

The wind blew inside the empty corridor. For a moment he thought he heard wailing voices come from every corner of the castle. Shaky, he opened his mouth to ask if anyone was home but he found that his teeth clenched as if it has gotten even colder. Suddenly something cracked and he jerked his head to see a small, bluish flickering light in the dark. Unveiled by the light of the flame, an elderly man, all clad in black stood at the top of the stairs. The only speck of colour present on his garments was a small, red dragon embroidered on the left side of his chest, right above the heart. 

“Welcome to my home,” he said in a breathy, raspy voice that chilled the air. “Enter freely and leave some of the happiness you bring.”

Daario swallowed hard as he tried to rid himself of the dreadful feeling that crept inside, as if the presence of the man brought the presence of death.

“Count Knightings?” he asked and in an instance, the doors behind him slammed. He jumped at the sound and looked behind him to find the doors closed shut. When he turned to face the count, his heart dropped as he came meer inches away from the old man’s face.

Daario’s mind could not comprehend the events that unfolded in front of him. The old man was feet away and in seconds he now stood in front of Daario. He held his hand forward and as he grasped Daario’s hand, the same nauseating feeling crept into his stomach and Daario once again had to control himself not to spill his insides on the floor. The coldness of the man’s hand made Daario believe for a brief moment that he shook hands with a dead person. But that cannot be possible, realizing how ridiculous this was. 

“I am Knightings, and I bid you welcome Mister Naharis, into my house” he curtsied, “Come, the night is young and cold. You must be tired after your long journey.”

The Count lifted Daario’s luggage and motioned to the staircase up ahead.

“It is late and I have dismissed my servants for the night. Come, let me show you to your quarters. Once you freshen up dinner will await you.”

They made their way up a circular stone staircase while Daario tried to take the appearance of the castle in. The castle looked old and unkempt, filled with many corridors, each having a number of doors that looked closed.

The light from the torches shone on the Count’s face as Daario tried to examine him, but only caught glimpses of his face as they made their way up the circular staircase. The wolves began howling again, the sounds echoing against the thick walls of the castle. The Count spoke in his chilly voice which was filled with pride:

“Children of the Night, what beautiful music they make.”

Daario was taken aback by the comment and did not know what to say. As he climbed the stairs behind the count, a strong sensation of being followed crept inside the back of his mind as if eyes stared at it.

They stepped into what looked like a large dining room. A fire filled the room with warmth and light. The count motioned Daario into a smaller room, adjoined to the dining room. There he saw a bed, a small desk and a toilet table, all in perfect condition. Another fire burned powerfully into the heart that made Daario relax his shoulders and appreciate the warmth again. 

“I trust you’ll find everything you need in your room. Take all the time you need and once you’ve finished, come into the dining room. Dinner awaits,” he bowed his head slightly and stepped outside of the room.

Being alone he now had time to take in the count’s appearance. The count’s skin was pale as milk with many wrinkles carved by time. His hair was long, white and fashioned in a long braid that hung against his firm back. His shoulders were wide, the man held a fine posture for his age. At first glance, he looked normal, but Daario noticed some peculiarities when it came to him.

His strength was not that of an elderly man. The way he grasped Daario’s hand, with such force. He knew that if he wanted, the count could have crushed his hand with ease. The way he moved in the hallway, closing the distance between the two in a fraction of a second. But when they walked together up the stairs, Daario noticed that the man moved slower than normal, as if he tried on purpose not to move too fast.

What truly shocked Daario, were the man’s features. For an old man, he was incredibly handsome. He had a firm jaw, small nose and his features were symmetric. His eyes held an incredible colour of blue. They seemed frozen, like the bluest water in existence had been encased in his eyes. When they walked close to each other Daario felt a peculiar chill that seemed to be emanated by the count.

He opened his luggage and took out a new pair of clothes. The room had no mirrors so he felt lucky that he always packed his. Now that he was safely inside and warmth filled him up, he shrugged any unnatural thoughts regarding the count and the castle. Once business was done he could finish here, travel brack and claim the one thing he always wanted. After he finished freshening up he stepped into the dining room.

He found the count standing next to the fireplace, looking into the fire with his cobalt eyes. Daario noticed that there was a sword resting against the wall, next to the fireplace. The Count did not move his gaze but he extended his hand, gesturing Daario to sit at the table where a steamy dinner awaited him. As he took his seat, Count Knightings turned and grabbed a flagon of wine and began to pour into Daario’s cup.

“You must forgive me for not joining you, but I have already dined,” he said and Daario nodded. He took his seat across from Daario.

“And I do not drink - wine,” the pause he made sent a chill through Daario. The way the Count spoke, in a breathless voice as if his lungs yearned for air. A sudden feeling of unsafety crept into his heart. His mind went back to Clegane who still had not returned and who still did not send any word.

Before he got a chance to speak, he heard the count addressing him

“I am sorry Mister Naharis, but when I got the letter informing me that Lord Aerys was sending his best man, I must say, my curiosity - peaked. I must say you were not what I imagined. Would you be so kind as to tell me more about yourself? Lord Aerys said that you are a man of excellent - taste,” a grin plastered itself onto his face revealing long teeth that looked sharp.

Daario tensed and strengthen his grip on the fork. Knightings’ expression looked devilish. Daario did not want to be looked down upon. He would soon become part of Aerys’ family with Daenerys as his most prized trophy. No old man would mock him.

“I’ve been working for Lord Aerys since the moment I became a solicitor. He took me and nurtured me under his wing. I believe that him entrusting this important business to me speaks enough of my capabilities as a solicitor.”

The Count looked at Daario, his face returning to its expressionless state. He lowered his head a bit before speaking, “Forgive me, I didn't mean any offence. I am old, and life has taught me to wary of whom I trust with important matters.”

For Daario that was not enough. He needed this man to know how important he was to Aerys, he needed to know that he is not to be messed with, and that his safety was a priority along with the deal.

“Mister Targaryen plans on wedding his daughter to me the moment I return to Kings Landing with this deal closed accordingly. That’s how much he trusts and cares for me,” Daario said proudly, taking a bite out of the warm food.

For a brief moment, Daario thought he saw the count’s eyes flash red. Blinking rapidly Daario shrugged the thought as the count spoke again, in a low, cold voice.

“I believe congratulations are in order then,” the Count said with a small smile that made Daario think that the old man was jealous.

Taking a picture out of his pocket, Daario gave it to the count “That’s her, the most beautiful woman in the world if you ask me,” he pushed his chest forward as he sipped from his glass.

The Count took the picture into his pale hands that looked ancient. Daario noticed that they were full of scars. To his surprise, the expression on Knightings’ face was not the one of jealousy he wanted to see. He looked as if he saw something out of this world, something that should not exist. His eyes seemed to twinkle as he took the picture in.

“Are you married, Count?” Daario asked breaking the silence, bringing the count out of his fantasy. This was the moment to let this man realize that Daario Naharis was the one who will marry Daenerys.

“No, we never got to that,” he said with sadness in his voice. “It was long ago, ages it seems. We were supposed to be wed but it never came to be. She...passed,” he said with clear sadness in his voice.

The count stood up and walked towards the window. The fire cast a shadow on his pale skin as his features were sombre.

“Do you believe in destiny, Mister Naharis?”

“No, I don’t,” Daario said plainly. “I believe in hard work, only that way can a man achieve his dreams. Only through hard work can a man become powerful and have anything he desires.”

The count turned towards him, his long braid snapping like a whip as it returned to rest on his back.

“Anything, even the powers of time, can be altered for a single purpose, for the purpose of finding true love. The luckiest man who walks on Earth is the one who finds it and fights for it.” He stepped closer to Daario looking him straight in the eyes.

“Never stand in a way of a man who’ll do anything, even cheat Death, in order to get back the one he loved most. That is power, Mister Naharis, not money and status,” he spat bitterly. 

Daario was taken aback by the words of the Count. Before he could say anything in return, the count spoke.

“Forgive me, I am tired and my mind is not what it used to be. I must rest and tomorrow during the day I will have important matters to attend. When you’re finished leave everything on the table, the servants will clear it in the morning. You are free to explore the castle but do not try to enter where the doors are closed,” he said curtly but the coldness in his voice sent a chill down Daario’s spine.

He stopped in the doorway and turn his head slightly towards Daario as he spoke, “What lies behind them is not for your eyes.”

With that, he stepped outside of the room. Daario quickly finished his meal and the flagon of wine and went back to his room. He had only now noticed that Knightings did not return him the picture of Daenerys. He resolved himself to ask for it tomorrow. The wine was quite strong and he was taken aback by how drunk he was. He drifted to sleep and he imagined screaming sounds coming from the castle.

Daario woke up around midday. Exhaustion left its mark on him following his journey. His head was pounding and he thought he remembered hearing screams before drifting to sleep. He shrugged it off on the account of the wine. 

The Sun crept through the old, woody blinds which looked in better condition than the window. He put his clothes on, not bothering to freshen up as he would be alone until later. He stepped back into the dining room. A tray stood near the fireplace which was lit. Logs crackled in the heart as flames engulfed them, feeling the uncanny silence. On the table, he found a small note. He picked up the note and read it

I will be away until the Sun has set. You are free to explore the castle, but remember my warning, do not try to enter where it is locked.

N. K.

It was the second time Knightings mentioned to him that he must not enter where the doors are locked. Daario thought that if he found it important to remind him not to try and open the closed doors, he might be guarding something valuable. If the opportunity will arise, I will do what I must if it suits me, he thought as he finished his meal and proceeded to explore the castle.

The day went by as Daario looked around the castle. In the daylight, it looked even older. The doors were made out of wood that lost its polish. Some of the windows on the first floor were shattered and he wondered why the Count did not bother to replace them. 

The dining room and the room he slept in were, from the looks of it, on the second floor of the castle which was also the last. As he made his way down, he noticed that on the first floor every door was closed and it couldn’t be hinged. When Daario reached the ground floor he looked around saw two corridors. He decided that he would look around the courtyard first and then explore the corridors.

He made his way toward the massive entrance door and pushed them. The doors did not flinch as he started pulling and pushing them as hard as he could. He exasperatedly made his way towards the windows to try and open but they were pinned down. Looking closely he observed that going through the window would not be the best idea. That would only lead to a fall in a massive crevasse.

Breathing heavily, he brushed off the sweat from his forehead with his hand. On the corridor that led to the right, he noticed a door that stood ajar. Out of all the doors that he had tried so far, all were locked, all except this one. Daario calmed himself as dread was replaced by curiosity and some sort of hope. He made his way, slowly, as not to let his presence known, towards the door.

He leaned close to it and peeked inside through the narrow space. There were voices speaking in whispers coming from inside. The windows were covered and no trace of light entered the room. It was illuminated solely by a small candle that sat on top of a fireplace. From behind the threshold, Daario noticed that two portraits hung on the wall above the fireplace. He could barely make one out and he saw that it was the portrait of a young man that held a striking resemblance to the Count. The other, was almost fully masked by darkness, only a sliver of long white hair could be seen.

Suddenly and without warning, a shrieking filled the silence and Daario jumped back. The door slammed shut in front of him. He looked around and saw nothing but he sprinted upstairs before he was discovered. Panting heavily he reached the second floor. He took a seat at the table and buried his face in the palm of his hands. Since his arrival, he had encountered only strange things, things that scared him. He did not consider himself a coward but this was the second time he thought of abandoning his job and fleeing for his life.

The driver, the wolves that chased them, the fact that this castle was locked and he could get out, the Count, all of these were scaring him. For a moment he thought that maybe Clegane reached this place but he never got back. But that did not make sense, because if Clegane had arrived, the Count would have surely waited for the deal to be made before doing anything to him. He tried to search for all the logical parts, for some sense that everything is going to be alright. He was in a foreign land and it was normal for him to feel out of place. 

Daario looked at his watch and saw that it was already past 4 pm. The sun began setting and according to the letter, the Count would be back soon. He stood up and entered his room to freshen up and rid himself of the unwarranted thought. The deal will be made tonight and he will be out of here tomorrow.

Back in his room, he took out the tiny mirror from his bag. It was a small, beautiful mirror made out of obsidian. Obsidian was called dragonglass in the past as it was believed to be made out of sand melted by dragon fire. Daario always found it funny how people still believed in legends and myths. The mirror had been a gift from Lord Aerys after Daario closed his first deal in his name. He put the mirror up and could see the entrance to the room behind him.

Daario felt a cold hand linger on his shoulder and the same nauseating feeling woke inside of him. Startled he turned his head and saw that the Count stood beyond the threshold of the door, no expression on his face. Was he the one that touched Daario’s shoulder? But he couldn’t have, he was too far from him.

As Count Knightings started walking slowly towards him. Daario noticed that his features have become less those of an elderly. His heavy wrinkled face was now smooth and pale, almost emitting pearly glow under the light of the candle. His eyes still held that haunting blue.

“I beg your forgiveness for letting you alone today, Mister Naharis. I had important business to attend and it took more time than I intended,” the Count spoke in a husky voice that was smooth and still breathy, his northern accent making it melodic.

Before he got a chance to reply he noticed Knightighs’ eyes fixating on something behind Daario. As if something had attacked the Count, his face contorted into a demon-like grimace and he let out an ear-piercing shriek, a sound Daario never heard a human make. His eyes were a crimson red and were filled with so much hatred that Daario felt himself shaking with fear. 

He slowly turned to the small noises coming from behind him. He found that his mirror had shattered, small pieces falling from it, one by one, onto the floor. Dumbfounded and shaking he turned his eyes back to the Count. His face returned to normal, now blue eyes piercing Daario’s soul with an expressionless face. 

“What the bloody hell,” he cursed. “What the fuck did just happened?” he asked, cursing as he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Dragonglass. Vulgar thing,” he said and Daario noticed the mocking tone in his voice. “You shouldn’t spend your money on such...deceitful things, Mister Naharis. When you are finished, dinner awaits,” he said and stepped out of the room as if nothing happened.

Daario struggled to understand, who was this man, what was with that inhuman face he made when he saw the mirror. The Count clearly shattered the mirror with his shriek. How could he do that and why seeing mirror have such an effect on him? Heart racing, Daario stepped into the dining room determined to find out more about the count and get the business over with so he can leave this place.

“You must forgive me again for not joining you, I do not have an appetite,” the count spoke as Daario took his seat, his own appetite almost non-existent. He started eating in little bites from his diner, steak and baked potatoes. It was delicious but the knot in Daario’s stomach prevented him from fully enjoying the dinner.

Knightings stretched his arm and Daario saw that he was handing him the picture of Daenerys back.

“Yesterday I left in haste and took it with me. Forgive my rudeness as I’ve taken from you something of great value,” he said curtly.

“Now, I believe we should get down to business. I know you desire to get the deal over with,” he paused and Daario held his breath. It felt like the Count could read his mind, but he continued, “I think you are most excited to get home and be reunited with your loved one.”

“Yes, I am. I wish to leave here tonight!” he said immediately.

“That cannot happen, Mister Naharis. My driver is unavailable tonight.”

“It does not matter, I will walk towards the nearest town and take the diligence back to Winterfell.”

The Count laughed heartily and said, “Walk during the night in these woods? That would be unwise, Mister Naharis.” As if on cue, wolves starting howling outside. The grin plastered on Knightings’ face was pure evil.

Daario resolved himself to do anything he can to survive one more night in this hellish place. He stood up and went into his room to retrieve the papers. When he came out he noticed that the table was already clean. He laid out the documents on the table and instructed the Count were to sign explaining every detail regarding the transaction.

“Congratulations, Count Knightings. You are now the proud owner of Summerhall,” Daario extended a hand but regretted it immediately when the Count took it and shook it. Every time the Count touched him, he felt like dying, the effect was terrifying.

“Thank you, Mister Naharis, but we both know it’s not something to be proud of. The castle is in ruins and you clearly know I paid way to much for it,” he added waving his hand in the air.

Curiosity got the better of Daario and he couldn’t help himself from asking, “Why have you bought it then?”

Knightings eyed him suspiciously before adding what felt like a warning, “That curiosity of yours, Mister Naharis, although I believe it is a good quality in a solicitor, it might someday be your downfall.”

“It is my job to ask questions, especially when it may be in Lord’s Aerys’ interest!”

“Has he not just made an enormous sum of money? What else could be in his interest?”

“Summerhall has been in the Targaryen family for thousands of years, it matters to Lord Aerys what the buyer’s intentions with it are!”

Knightings looked at him, those blue eyes left like they penetrated the depths of his soul. There was something menacing in them that Daario couldn’t help but wonder if he crossed the line of safety.

“The Targaryen family has died with Queen Daenerys and Jaehaerys Targaryen, also known as Jon Snow, almost two thousand years ago. The bastard who was stupid enough to let the Lannisters and Starks manipulate him into killing her,” his voice was low and the way he spoke rose the hairs on the back of Daario’s neck.

“Targaryens, Lannisters and Starks, the three families that claim to have built this country. The Lannisters and Starks who betrayed everyone, even family members, that stood in the way of them achieving power.”

“That is a legend, nothing more!” he said furiously.

Daario saw him take the sword that rested against the wall. The steel flashed in the light of the fire, it looked newly polished, in perfect condition, just like the one that stood above the fireplace in the Targaryen Manor. The only oddity of the sword was that the handle, ended in a jagged line where Daario believed it had a pommel.

“The Targaryen family you so highly speak off is nothing more than the descendants of the remaining hidden Blackfyres. Let me educate you on something, Mister Naharis,” he said as he slashed the palm of his hand with the sword but no blood came out.

“These veins had the blood of traitors and deceivers in them, but also the blood of nobility. That blood turned into something so despicable, something so corrupted…The Long Night changed everything.” The hatred in his voice pierced through Daario and threatened to rip his heart out. Realizations came over Daario, that this man, even in his old age, was dangerous. But before he could do anything, before he could reply and found out more, the Count spoke again.

“I thank you for helping me purchase Summerhall, Mister Naharis. I must leave you tonight, tomorrow you are free to leave at the hour that you wish, I will not be here to see you off. Do not wonder the castle tonight, it is for your own good,” he bowed slightly and left the room leaving Daario aghast to the events that unfolded in front of him. 

Over the evening Daario tried to put the pieces together but nothing made sense. He cursed himself for not following the warnings of those that told him not to come to the Nightfort, but marrying Daenerys was too important for him. His only hope now was that tomorrow, the Count would keep his word and he could leave this place once and for all. The deal was done, he didn’t need anything else. But Knightings was right, his curiosity too strong, he needed to know if this man will be a future threat to him and Aerys.

It was close to midnight when he decided to leave the room and explore the castle again. He thought that he could maybe open some of the locked doors and find answers there. That was a futile attempt.

He found himself staring at the same door that closed itself to him. He took a deep breath and decided to push the handle down slowly. The door, to his surprised, opened without a sound. He could hear voices inside, three of them. He pushed it slightly and he crouched so he could see inside. Again, the only source of light was the candle, but this time he could make out the silhouettes of two men. They were speaking in hoarse voices, like rugged whispers.

His mind went numb as he finally saw the second portrait that hung on the wall. It was a portrait marked by time, but the image was quite clear. Daenerys Targaryen smiled down from it, her beautiful purple eyes filled with happiness and her silver hair braided in an intricate pattern. He never saw her as happy as she was in that portrait. Suddenly, the voice that spoke woke him from the trance.

“Your Grace, we found her.”

“Are you sure, Davos? Are you absolutely sure?” a young, husky voice addressed the man who had spoken. Daario could not see whose voice it was as it came from the dark corner of the room.

“Aye, we’ve been following the woman for weeks on your orders. Ever since you learned about Aerys. She is exactly the embodiment of the Queen,” said the man on the right. The Queen? What in the world are they talking about? 

“If she is back, are the Starks and Lannister also? Have they also reincarnated as Leaf said?” the young voice asked anxiously.

“Aye, they have. Everything is as it’s supposed to be, your Grace. But I ask you to proceed with caution. We must be patient and strike at the opportune moment.”

“I did my waiting, Davos!” bellowed the young voice. “Almost two thousand years! No more!”

And then realization came over Daario. The young voice, the anger in it, was the same as the one of Count Knightings. He knew he had to flee the castle immediately and warn Aerys. The Count was clearly after Daenerys and he had to leave now to warn her.

“Tormund, bring Naharis in. His legs must be numb from crouching near the door.”

In that moment Daario froze, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t run. Without warning, he was forcibly pulled inside the room and thrown to the ground. He grunted in pain as he started to register the two people who were in front of him.

The two men, Davos and Tormund as the Count called them, had skin white and pale like the moon. One of the men had bright red hair that in contrast with his white skin looked like it was on fire. The other one missed a few fingers on his hand. As they moved towards Daario, he heard every joint in their bodies as it cracked; cracked like ice under pressure.

“Stay away from me!” he yelled.

“Mister Naharis. I told you not to wonder about where you shouldn’t. And I tried so hard these days to not rip that head of yours off your disgusting body.”

The two men stopped in their tracks. From the dark corner of the room, stepped a young man. The echoes of his boots hitting the floor filled the silence. His hair was long and curly, jet black in colour and his lips were pale but dripping with what looked like blood. Immediately Daario recognized his eyes, the eyes of the Count, that menacing blue of death.

He stood clad only a pair of black breeches with boots high to his knees. As Daario looked he saw that the younger version of the Count was lean but muscular. Over his chest and abdomen, there were 7 gruesome scars, the biggest one over his heart.

“How is this possible? How can you be young like this?” he asked astonished that words could leave his mouth.

“You need not concern yourself with that, Mister Naharis. You wouldn’t understand what the power of blood does to me under this curse,” said the young Count wiping his lips of the red liquid.

The man stepped closer, his curls bouncing with every step he took as his pearly white skin made his muscles look as if they were sculptured. The man held an ethereal beauty to him, like he was not of this world. Even in his state of fright, Daario couldn’t notice that. Sweat was dripping from Daario’s face even with the room freezing cold.

“I told you that your curiosity will be your undoing, Mister Naharis,” he added coldly. 

“W-what are you?” Daario said, as he watched the count eye shifting from blue to red again, as his mouth twisted into a wolfish grin, revealing his sharp teeth.

“So many questions,” he said in annoyance. “I am what the world forced me to be. I am the very thing that they fought to destroy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Broken bastard, man without honour, kinslaying prince. That’s what they called me after they, together with my sweet brother, made me murder the love of my life.” He stepped closer and with a motion of his hand, Daario felt a sting on his cheek and hot blood dripping down on it.

He watched the Count as he motioned with his finger in the air, red floating letters made out of Daario’s blood appearing. They spelt Knightings.

“This is what I am Mister Naharis, I believe you have heard the legend. They speak of it even in this day, although, that thing does not come even close to what I am” and he made another motion with his hand as the letters began rearranging themselves.

What they spelt almost shattered Daario’s mind. His heart threatened to rip out of his chest as he threw up on the floor. In the air, icy blood-letters spelt Night’s King.

“It can’t be,” he said wiping his mount. “You are a-a m-myth. You couldn’t be real. The legend says that the Night King died.” He did not want to accept this but his body betrayed him as it shook uncontrollably.

The Night’s King laughed heartily, “Aye he did. I was there, I was the one that drove my sword through his heart. Like I said, Naharis, I am something more than him.” 

He stepped closer again to Daario who was kneeling on the floor. The Night’s King knelt in front of him and with his cold finger pressed against Daario’s chin, raising his head to look straight into his eyes.

“Close to the end of my mortal life, I was known as Jon Snow. That was my name but never who I was. My real name was Jaehaerys Targaryen and I was the one who killed the Night King. Then they repaid me by manipulating my mind and make me kill my Queen. But now, she came back. They all came back as the Children have prophesied. The first sign was when I saw Clegane entering my castle.”

“W-what are you talking about? What prophecy? What did you do with Clegane?” Daario asked baffled, coldness overtaking him.

“It does not matter, you do not need to know. Let's just say that Clegane had a massive headache that he - did not survive," the grin on his face was of pure evil. "The picture you have shown me together with what Davos and Tormund saw, confirm that the time has come. It is time to make them pay and save her from the wolves and lions.”

“Daenerys! You’re talking about Daenerys!” Daario shouted in desperation. “What are you planning on doing to her?”

“You need not worry, Mister Naharis,” he said as his cold eyes stared at him. “Dead men have no worries.”

Daario’s last words were lost in the air as he felt a cold hand plunging into his chest. He fell down on his stomach, warm liquid under him. The last thing that his ghostly eyes saw, was a still-beating heart as everything faded to black.

**Author's Note:**

> So there's that. I hope the ending made up for you putting up with Naharis. Let's just say that his actions were taken to heart. (I'll let myself out)  
> Now, a couple of things. My other story, Purple Rain, is not abandoned. My life has been hectic, to say the least. This particular piece took me about 1 month to complete. I promise that I'll finish both this and Purple Rain but the updates will come slow. There's a particular line (which is borrowed from Bram Stocker's Dracula, the movie, that I really want to get down between Jon and Dany. (if you haven't seen the movie, I urge you too, it's glorious)  
> I would really love to hear your thoughts, if you feel like sharing, so feel free to drop a comment.


End file.
